


Epilogue and Prologue

by poisontaster



Series: Books of the Living [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Has Powers, Ficlet, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-27
Updated: 2007-01-27
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5165801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2 months after Chapter and Verse. Dean's come out about his powers, but things still aren't quite right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue and Prologue

He shouldn't feel this nervous. It bugs the shit out of him that he feels this nervous. But he felt Sam's eyes on him when he bought the double handful of postcards at the truck stop that morning. He's felt Sam's eyes on him all day. Aw, hell, he's felt Sam's eyes on him for the last two months, ever since he came out to Sam about his gift.

He hasn't written any post cards since then, hasn't sent any messages. The weight of them itches under his skin, worse the longer he lets it go on. He can't just forget them, much as he'd like to. But Sam just keeps looking at him with those new, weird eyes and every time Dean just freezes up.

He can't keep going on like this. He's tried it before. It never works out.

So after he gets out of his shower and Sam's lounging on the bed, flipping through channels just short of the speed of light, feeling weirdly conscious of every footstep across the ratty carpet, Dean goes over to his duffle. He pulls out the postcards and the ballpoint he stole from the last—nicer—motel they were in. Then, feeling Sam's gaze like a bug bite right between his shoulder blades, he goes to sit down at the dinette.

He's shuffling through the cards, trying to make them all lay the same way when he hears the mattress squeak under Sam's weight and then the soft pad of Sam's feet across the carpet. Dean's chest feels hot and too tight, his heart beating too hard under his breastbone. He jumps a little under his skin when Sam touches his shoulder, light and hesitant.

"Can I…?" Sam gestures at the other chair.

Dean shrugs. Under the table, his naked toes curl up in discomfort. "Yeah. Sure."

Sam looks so serious when he slides into the opposite chair, like Dean is his homework or something. Something to be studied. "Well…would you just quit staring?" Dean throws the pen down on the table. "Fuck. Just forget it." He pushes the chair back and starts to stand.

"Dean." Sam catches hold of Dean's wrist, jerks him up short. "I'm not staring."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Sam—" Dean's free hand balls up into a fist. He tugs free.

"No, wait!" Sam grabs him again, hooking his fingers in the back of Dean's boxers this time. Dean stops before Sam's got him completely bare-assed. "I'm sorry. I won't. I won't stare. Just…" Sam releases his grip on Dean's shorts. "I want to see."

"There's nothing much to see," Dean mutters. "S'just some scribbling."

"I want to see," Sam repeats, stubborn as the sunrise. "Dean…" Sam sighs. "I'll suck your dick."

"Every day for the next week," Dean answers promptly because Sam may be the college boy, but Dean's not slow on the uptake.

Sam's smile is crooked. "Every day for the next week."

"Ha." Dean sits back down. "I would've settled for every other day."

Sam's grin widens. "I would have agreed to two weeks."

"Aw, man."

Sam pushes the stack of postcards towards Dean. "Who is this one for?"


End file.
